When talking about my interests I have been called a "Renaissance woman." I have broad interests in both arts and science.Anything I don't know about, but have an interest in, I teach myself, from piano to environmental law to maths.

I have what's called Myalgic Encephalomyelitis, also commonly and improperly referred to as Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, which in itself is complicated and has in turn complicated my life greatly and strained all of my relationships.When I've recovered from M.E. I would love to travel and explore other lands and cultures. I have always loved adventure: rock climbing, bunjee jumping, exploring, and generally taking risks and doing new things. A good friend of mine once said that adrennaline is my drug of choice.

I love to debate and discuss everything from arts to science; philosophy, psychology and politics in particular.

Currently, I'm building my life. When I got M.E. my whole perspective on life was turned upside down. I've had to do some serious introspection, and retrospection, to decide what's important to me and my life now. Right now I'm back to the basics, just building a foundation for my life. I'm sort of going through a rebirthing process. It's all I've really been left with. Right now, I think about life, my life, and I read and discover things about the rest of the world; Whether through googling, magazines, or TV, I have learned quite a bit during this reflection time of my life. I'm working on living in the moment, because M.E. has fogged up most of my memory. I say "fogged up" because it comes back from time to time- but there are a lot of times when I can't remember anything from the last six years, or from yesterday, sometimes I even forget about what happened a few minutes ago.

I spend a lot of time thinking about:

The World and its complexities. The intricate pieces that make our world what it is, that make it so troubled and so difficult, that make it so wonderful. The depth of our societies and cultures, how religion is so deeply embedded into modern culture. I think about how we've dedicated so much energy and ingenuity over time to violence and ways to make killing easier and what profits came of it.

What's truly important to me- what matters in the grand scheme of life. I think of the kind of person I want to be, the things I want to be able to do, the things I want to try. I think of the things that I want in my life, the kind of people I want in my life. I think of how to make these things a reality.

I think about the places I want to go, the things I want to see. The things I want to accomplish.

I think about a lot of things. I think about the novelties of life, the uniqueness, the complexities, everything that comes to mind I explore.

Myalgic Encephalomyelitis:

Though it is not rare, not many people know about M.E., and there is no government spending on M.E. research anywhere in the world. And while there are tests and criteria, most people go without diagnosis for years, and are usually referred to psychology, while prolonging the time without knowledge of proper actions and precautions to take, thus progressing the disease (my own personal experience and the experience of a couple of friends).

"Myalgic Encephalomyeletis is an acutely acquired neurological disease initiated by a viral infection with multi system involvement. What defines M.E. is a specific type of acquired damage to the brain (the central nervous system) caused by said virus (an enterovirus).

Encephalomyelitis can be more disabling than MS or polio, and many other serious diseases. M.E. is one of the most disabling diseases there is. More than 30 of M.E. patients are housebound, wheelchair-reliant and/or bedbound and are severely limited with even basic movement and communication.

Why are Myalgic Encephalomyelitis patients so severely and uniquely disabled? For a person to stay alive, the heart must pump a certain base-level amount of blood. Every time a person is active, this increases the amount of blood the heart needs to pump. Every movement made or second spent upright, every word spoken, every thought thought, every word read or noise heard requires that more blood must be pumped by the heart.However, the hearts of M.E. patients only pump enough blood for them to stay alive. Their circulating blood volume is reduced by up to 50. Thus M.E. patients are severely limited in physical, cognitive and orthostatic (being upright) exertion and sensory input.This problem of reduced circulating blood volume, leading to cardiac insufficiency, is why every brief period spent walking or sitting, every conversation and every exposure to light or noise can affect M.E. patients so profoundly. Seemingly minor 'activities' can cause significantly increased symptom severity and/or disability (often with a 48-72 hour delay in onset), prolonged relapse lasting months, years or longer, permanent bodily damage (eg. heart damage or organ failure), disease progression or death.If activity levels exceed cardiac output by even 1, death occurs. Thus the activity levels of M.E. patients must remain strictly within the limits of their reduced cardiac output just in order for them to stay alive."- Edited and Compressed version of 's homepage. To find out more, visit .

Personally, I'm no where near dying (That I know of...). However, I am housebound and mainly wheelchair-reliant, I do and/or have had a majority of the possible symptoms, and I fit the description quite well.

One day I would like to write directly about my experiences, but it takes quite a lot of energy, and I am recovering slowly.

If you have any questions about M.E. or my personal experiences, please ask. I will not be offended.

Side Note:Cher, Frank Iero, and Laura Hillenbrand (author of Seabiscuit) have all had "Chronic Fatigue Syndrome".

My Writing:

Most (but not all) of my work reflects my journey through M.E., its effect on me, my life and my relationships. I would love to answer any questions you may have about my writing. Should you have some constructive criticism I would love to hear some objective opinions so I may better my writing now and in the future.

I suddenly developed the ability of telepathy with men. But not charming men. No, I can only communication with nerds. And if that wasn't bad enough they've now deemed me their matchmaker. God, just smite me now.

It wasn't complicated, our arrangement. We had sex. Fantastic sex. But there I went, making things difficult, falling for the guy who stayed up with me long after his roommate had gone to sleep. Oneshot.

Determined to put the fear of God into the racist homophobe who messed up her best friend, mild-mannered Jane Hazelton resorts to hiring a thug to do the job. Trouble is, said thug isn’t interested in money, he’s interested in her. **COMPLETED**

She's just the sweet girl who sells cupcakes. He's just the charming guy who buys them. She has a crush. He has something up his sleeve. Pure, unadulterated, happy, non-dramatic fluff. rated M for some language and some, yknow. Some eventual schmex.

An ordinary 17 year old girl, Raina Johnson, is infatuated. Infatuated with a rather myterious bad boy, Travis Thompson, who just so happens to be a Goth. So what happens when Trent Anderson Travis's friend finds out and...FULL SUMMARY INSIDE!

ONESHOT. "Your mom wants me to impregnate you?" I pause. "Yes," I answer honestly. "She thinks you're dreamy and has deemed you well equipped for the job." Kent laughs. "Well that's true. I think I can be pretty sufficient in that area of service."

To-do lists equaled love. He had an obsession with her groceries and a hero complex she secretly appreciated. His girlfriend wasn’t much of an obstacle; he only liked to be distracted. After all, she couldn’t know he secretly wanted her, too.

ONESHOT. "So...you ever feel third-wheelish around them?" "Just a bit, yeah." "Do you want to feel third-wheelish together?" "...Wouldn't that just make us a separate pair of wheels?" He smiles, "Exactly."

Oneshot. I was a dumped ex-girlfriend. What else was I supposed to do? Why, go to the new girlfriend's birthday party at The Happiest Place on Earth, of course. Re-write. Includes shameless pirate pick-up lines. Rated T for swearing.

Masquerade Ball. From this night onwards, their worlds will collide. 6 potential candiates for an exclusive club meet at a ball. Because of the masks, they have no idea who the others are. What happens when the masks come off at midnight? SUMMARY INSIDE!

When rivalry takes action, students at Westfield School of Boarding--fondly known as SOB--must choose sides. The ringleaders are thrilled, until their war becomes a war to protect the very school they hate. A bit of a satire; Sort of complete.

-which is where my hand is at the moment. That is, if the Cookie Jar is the school's notorious bad boy's back pocket with the whole school watching on. "What do you think you're doing?" "Er..." oneshot

“Jeez, you’re such a creeper.” Joey crosses her arms over her chest. “I didn’t know you were following me. What if I came in here to masturbate or something?” Carson shrugs his shoulders. “Hey, you wanna masturbate, go right ahead. I don’t judge.”

Even if it was cliché, the too good girl finally tamed the too bad boy. It had taken a bubblegum chewing fairy to find his heart and all he wanted to do now was be worthy. And all she wanted to do was be his. SKoW Member Challenge - Bubblegum

“Who are you? God?” I demand. “Maybe I am. And with the way you’ve been treating me, well, you’re going to hell, buddy,” she says indignantly. “Yeah,” I sneer. “I’m sure that God definitely goes around kicking third graders in the balls."

Oneshot. I give every guy a chance but I knew in the first five minutes that I would never date Owen. I was set to make a clean get-away, he didn't even have my number. Of course, things change when you rear-end his car.

I never broke the best friend rule until now, when I got a little bit too friendly with my best friend. And the incidence of too much friendliness did not just involve lips. There was also a bed mixed in there somewhere. And nakedness. A lot of nakedness.

Calista,young speechwriter for the King is intelligent smart and comes from a renowned family. To her displeasure, she has been betrothed to Prince Nicodemus since birth. Can she overcome writer’s block, and find love in an arranged marriage?

“Well at least I don’t hook up with every blonde bimbo who crosses my path,” I say venomously, which was so, so stupid. Allison James isn’t even blonde – I’m a blonde. I just called myself a bimbo! Aw, jeez. I really need to work on my comebacks.

“So I take it I’m not getting any tonight?” That WOULD be the first thing he says to me when he finds out we're locked in a room together. So even with "No" for an answer, how is it I find myself in bed with him, falling harder with every passing second?

Julia King learns just how hard it is to remain professional in the face of personal bias and, oh, complete and utter loathing, when her boss takes on a new but familiar client. Written for the "I Love To Hate You" challenge.

How to win over the girl of your dreams: have her catch you wearing nothing but a pair of hot pink, Disney Princess patterned boxers, attempting to photocopy your ass. Humilating? You have no idea. ONESHOT

She was used to being unnoticed, that was nothing new. But when the mystery boy at school starts paying a shocking amount of attention to her, she's not quite sure what to do. Believe it? Deny it? Surely he couldn't really be into her...could he? REMOVED

“I’ll sell my body, I don’t know.” He ate another cookie. “THIS IS SO GOOD. I want to have epic sex with your baking skills.” An instructional guide on how to snare males in the trap of awesome cooking.

After a 200-year war the Prince of the Immortals searches for his reborn love. When she can't remember one of her lives, the two are thrown into a web of conspiracy that could destroy the Court of the Immortals. Under rennovation.

“How about a movie? Saturday night? Just you and me.” I scowled. “How about you get the hell off my desk before I kick your fat ass off it?” He grinned at me, unfazed. “You just can’t get enough of my ass, can you?” ONESHOT

I may be somewhat strange, but he's got arrogance down to an artform. I may have thrown a rock at his car, but it's no excuse to concoct a plan to kill me. Honestly, who does he think he is? The nerve of some people. Course language, you've been warned.

One shot. What's a girl to do when her ten night stand throws her knickers out the window? Steal a pair of his boxers to wear of course. It's not a big deal, until Kristie Carlson comes up and asks whether you're wearing someone else's underwear.

Oneshot. Belle's surefire ways to get a guy: 1, Write his name on your hand. 2, Lure him in with jelly beans. If it works for kids, it works for men. And 3, recite your many witty food analogies. He won't be able to resist.

ONE SHOT. Remy's boyfriend Matt is perfect in every way except one: he has an infuriating best friend named Jack who just loves to bother her. "Do you think I find joy in the fact that all I can ever think about is you, no matter how hard I try not to?"

g'night psycho, I thought to myself. There was a split second where I wondered who I was talking to, the invisible boy spooning me from behind...or me..the girl who somehow managed to summon him back from the darkest corners of dream world.

The EAHoDSC is a long-standing tradition for Adelaide and her friends. But what happens when one of her other traditions - the delicious Charlie Harris - joins the fray? You know, besides the traditional inordinate amounts of sexual tension?

Pen is not earth mother. And the boy is not gentle. But he is lovely and broken and if she could stop being a chickenshit she could call him up and ask him to take her to Casablanca. This is how the world begins.

[ONE SHOT] Cady & Hayden had been friends forever. So when Hayden realizes he might have feelings for her, he enlists his ladies' man poet friend to help him win her over. Sadly, the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry...

I started looking at the French fries one case over, but when you stand in front of one single case in the frozen foods section for 15 minutes, the stockboys think of you as the lonely, slightly overweight woman they read horror stories about.

Picture this. You're seventeen, female and seriously feminist. Then, suddenly, the cheerleaders want you to join them. And the most perverted (and hottest) Goth in school is chasing you. Did I mention I was dragged half way across the world for this?

[VERY LONG ONE SHOT] Abe Pruitt is going to improve the world, and she's doing it with sticky notes. Jack St. James is going to keep on being bothersome, and he looks good doing it, damn him. Doesn't it suck when the tables are turned? [EDITED]

In a world where wild grocery carts run rampant, two people meet under the most unlikely of circumstances. “You mean we’ve been standing in the middle of the grocery store talking about hot dogs? For half an hour?” [Oneshot]

[ONESHOT] Charlie is a girl in a punk band, and Ink is a guy who dislikes girls in punk bands. Still, she has vivid threats involving piano wire prepared for whenever he calls her pet names, so maybe there's some room for exception in her case.

COMPLETE Sarea had led a fairly normal life until that arrogant, pompous snake chose to drop in on her. Literally. Then she learns that she is his lifemate and that dragons actually exist. No, they really do. And he just happens to be their crown prince.

"So - you're a vampire." "No, I'm a were-bat. What is wrong with you people? Does everything with wings have to be a bloody, arrogant, vamp" The romance of a fascinated young girl and an irritated were-bat. One Shot.

COMPLETE In nineteenth century London, it isn't considered proper for a young lady to send flowers to a healthy young bachelor. But when Adrian Morey receives a bouquet with a challenge, he can't help but be intrigued.

When Kiernan Maitland went missing, it was up to me to find him. Me... find an actor who is known to be terrifying, both on and off the screen. How would I know that finding him would set off my own Hollywood fairytale. Short story.

An infestation...they've taken over. Look carefully: they live in our cities, they walk our streets. You can find them in stores, in parks, in schools and in our homes; they're everywhere. Why do we let them? Why haven't we done something more?

He thinks that he can know me, that he knows what's best for me. He assumes his goals are mine, we dream in sync, the perfect pursuit of happiness. To understand me, the place of pain and turmoil, the Hell of Battle: that is inferno, that is me.

She tells me to stop. Think. Be serious. But this strange feeling inside of me is tugging on the lead. She tells me to go. Fly. Give in. But I'm cold and unsure; I have no room, nowhere to soar. It feels so much like falling...into the blank pages of me.

From my hospital room, I can hear the painful screams of anonymous friends. I can look out my window, beyond the red, neon heart on the building facing it, and onto the stars. I wonder about their stories: the stars and the screams. Does anyone care?

In sea, I'm drifting, away from land. You watch: waiting, expecting. What? I'm not sure. Have you never learned to swim, are you too scared to try? Can't you see I'm drowning and I want you? Help me. Dive in, please. I promise I'll help you back to shore.

A cell is a lonely isolation. Tombs are still, dead and stagnant, though this one harbors life. We celebrate new adventures, friends and life, yet in this room we call for ceremony and sobriety. What does it mean to live?

The journey of a chronic illness takes years and constant rebirths and transmutations. There are no large victories, just discoveries and knowledge gained on new paths. There is no ultimate destination, only a journey.